


A Mother's Love

by anniemoon



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-01
Updated: 2002-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniemoon/pseuds/anniemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written in response to the first improv (sing, bleak, prayer, glass) from the QAFImprov list. Written after the S2 premiere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Love

Brian was a beautiful kid. I mean, he's a beautiful man, but he was always like that, wasn't one of those kids that needs to grow into their looks. He was the whole package probably right from birth. Wide, grey-green eyes and a smile that made heads turn. He was a real heartbreaker, that kid.

And charming! So charming he'd make you want to do anything for him, and then thank him for the privilege. He had a real knack for sweet-talking his way out of trouble.

Once, he and Michael were dancing and singing to some music in the living room and Brian fell against a table, knocking my favorite vase to the floor and shattering it. It was just a cheap glass thing, a wedding gift from an old high school friend, but I loved that damn vase and I could have near killed Brian for breaking it.

He saw me advance on him, face red with fury and a good yell building up in me. He raised his hands in defense, flashed that smile, and insisted that he'd fix it. And damned if he didn't. Spent all day sitting on the floor in front of the couch as Michael did his homework, painstakingly gluing each tiny piece together until you had to hold it up against the light to tell it had been broken.

He was a driven perfectionist, even as a kid. Couldn't let go of a task he'd laid on himself until it was finished exactly to his satisfaction.

I knew he was trouble for Michael. I knew if I could barely resist that kid's charms that someone as sensitive and eager-to-please as Michael would be putty in Brian's hands. It wasn't so much that Brian was manipulative - that came later as he got harder, more worn down by those sorry excuses for parents he had to live with - he just had a knack for knowing exactly what Michael needed - someone to take care of - and giving it to him.

When Brian and Michael were seventeen, I came home from work to find Brian sitting in my kitchen alone, doing his homework. That wasn't unusual; Brian often came over to my house even when Michael wasn't there. I asked if he wanted anything to eat and he said he was fine.

Then, he asked me, "Debbie, do you think I should kill my parents?"

He sounded so matter-of-fact, so innocent in his question that I immediately got suspicious. Whenever Brian Kinney sounded innocent, it meant he was up to something. Given his question, I was alarmed. But if I confronted him directly, I knew I'd scare him away. I had to tackle this one from an angle.

"Why do you want to kill your parents?" I asked casually.

He drew circles with his pencil on a sheet of paper. "Oh, you know. They're fucking assholes, they don't care about me or Joanie. Pops is a useless drunk and Mom is screwing her boss. Don't you think the world would be a better place without them?"

"How would you do it?"

"A gun, I think," he mused. "Something messy and bloody. Maybe an axe."

"You might get caught," I pointed out, "and then they win."

He sighed, his face bleak for a brief moment until his typical smooth mask of unconcern replaced it. "You're right. It's too much trouble." He leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Besides, I don't care if they hate me because I know you love me."

I watched Michael become more attached to Brian over the years, and Brian continued to make Michael feel needed. I kept telling myself it was a temporary thing, that Michael would grow up, meet someone else. Brian, with his ambitions and powerful drive to escape his life, would move away. It never happened. Brian and Michael grew up together, only they never grew up.

I hated how Brian called Michael "Mikey." It kept him in a state of perpetual adolescence and Brian did it deliberately. He refused to grow older and he was determined to keep Michael right there with him. Michael never minded it. Brian walked on water as far as he was concerned.

I was so happy when Michael told me he had made a new friend, a nice young man named Ted. He insisted they were just friends, but I saw how Ted looked at Michael. Ted's eyes would track him across the room, shining so bright with love that I couldn't believe Michael didn't see it.

I asked Ted once, trying to keep my voice casual, if he thought Michael would ever find a nice boy like him to settle down with.

Ted blushed and looked away. "As long as Brian is around, nobody else has a prayer."

I see distance between Brian and Michael now, ever since Justin was attacked and Michael moved away. Even now that he's back, Michael is reserved around Brian. He still flits around him like a hummingbird drawn to nectar, but he's lost some of that yearning in his eyes. And Brian keeps Michael at arm's length, showing affection at times but not teasing him like he used to. I can see the distance hurts both of them, but I think it's a good thing. Michael is finally growing up. So is Brian, despite his best efforts not to.

Brian came over earlier. He was looking for Michael, of course, but he didn't seem too anxious to find him. He grabbed a cookie and nibbled at it, then mentioned he had been banned by Jennifer from seeing Justin ever again. He said it off-handedly, so I knew how much it affected him. Instead of going along with his affected disinterest, I took the cookie away from him, set it down on the table, and wrapped him in the biggest hug I could give him.

He stiffened, like I knew he would, but I held on. I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. He eventually relaxed and let me hug him, even tentatively hugged me back. He wasn't ready to let his walls crumble, probably never would be ready, but he was able to accept love from the only real mother he had ever known.

I let him go when I thought it was time. He leaned down, kissed my cheek, and said, "Besides, I don't care if they hate me because I know you love me."

And I smiled because it was true.


End file.
